


The Boy-Who-Lived-No-More

by FreddieFoxBaxter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: -Ish, Angst, Death, Established Relationship, Funeral, Growing Old Together, M/M, Old Married Couple, Slice of Life, Teacher!Harry, teacher!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieFoxBaxter/pseuds/FreddieFoxBaxter
Summary: Harry Potter is dead and Draco is quite upset about it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	The Boy-Who-Lived-No-More

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was Funeral/Memorial and this pratically wrote itself.

Draco sat by himself in the first row, the position he was entitled to. The waves of the Great Lake were whispering their goodbyes, the merpeople were already in formation, their grayish skin shining under the sun. Even the castle felt closer than ever, as if the familiar fortress had the urge to pay respect to its late Headmaster too. Draco saw the centaurs hiding at the verge of the forest, and more than a few distinct clawing on the trees – the werewolves living in the forest had already been there, and the marks were all too close to the grave to be a coincidence. They already bid their farewell. Typical of Potter, getting monstrous creatures to bow their heads to him.

The students would have to go hungry that evening, because every single house elf was out there, but that was no surprise to him. Harry had a giant portrait of Dobby in the Great Hall, and he always made sure to stop and say hi to every single elf he met. The fact that they were busy and came to Draco to complain about it didn’t bother him at all.

Hogwarts had been their home for more than sixty years. Minerva McGonagall had hired a stubborn Potter, who wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and that must have broken the curse on the position, because the man never left. The Headmistress also took Draco in and gave him the role that had been of Severus Piton. Harry and Draco had helped shape generations of new wizards and witches. Harry had quickly become a students favourite and later a beloved Headmaster, so it was only appropriate that Harry would be buried there.

Pansy and Hermione had taken charge of organizing the service, because they knew he wouldn’t have been able to cope with it. How do you cope with the idea of burying your husband of seventy-eight years?

 _The-Boy-Who-Lived-No-More_. Draco sneered. The title the Prophet chose to announce Harry’s death to the Magic World made his skin crawl, but, after a lifelong feud between his husband and the newspaper, it was quite fitting they’d show him no respect. Pansy had read the article to him, because he refused to do so himself. The words used to describe him made him smile, because it was clear the writer didn’t know the first thing about Harry.

The journalist had listed his accomplishments and awards, but forgot to include heart-felt tributes from his friends and students, as The Quibbler did instead. What came out was a giant pile of garbage Draco could have lived without. It gave him no comfort, although nothing did those days.

He was positive he would one day appreciate the irony of the whole situation. Who could have guessed that Great Britain’s sweetheart also had a weak heart? The heir of Gryffindor, the lion-heart had died of a heart failure. Draco had been by his side when it happened. He had woken up in the middle of the night, and he knew something was very wrong.

Harry was gone, a peaceful smile on his face. It was too late to help him, so Draco laid there, holding his hand and caressing his hair. He didn’t dare move from their bed, because he knew once he had told somebody it’d have become real, and he wasn’t ready for that.

He guarded Harry’s body till morning and then, only then, he Flooed their kids. They deserved to find out from him.

That was about the extent of Draco’s contribution to the whole thing. He knew his role, what was expected from him as a new widower. He had sat in the Great Hall, where representative of the Ministry, ex-students and their family, the whole bloody Magic community had come to say goodbye to their Saviour. Draco had accepted condolences from people he didn’t know, careful not to show them how little he cared for those manufactured expressions of grief. He had piled up casseroles of food he was never going to eat.

That was the easy part.

The hard one was facing his kids. They had come to him looking for some consolation, but Draco had none to give. Harry had always been better when it came to that kind of matters. They each had their role. He was the fun dad and the emotional supportive one. Draco was the strict one. He was the one taught their kids and later their grandkids about history and magic and art.

Draco had hugged them and dried the tears from their faces, but he had less than a few words with them. He didn’t feel like talking those days. His loss had left him empty and drained.

For a moment he had hoped Harry would come back as a ghost, but he knew his husband too well to truly believe that. He knew Harry would always choose to move forward. By now, he was probably reunited with the family he never got to meet when he was alive. Draco held that thought dear, it was the only thing that made him feel anything other than his own grief, the idea that Harry was finally with them.

Draco was asked to make a speech during the service, but he declined the offer. The last thing he desired was to step up to a podium to tell a sea of strangers how he felt about the loss of his husband. Grief, he had learnt over the years, was something he did better in private.

He half-listened to the speeches that were given, one after the other. He supposed they might be good ones, but couldn’t bring himself to pay any attention.

Damned Potter, it was entirely his fault. Gryffindor to his core, he always had to jump head first into things, leaving Draco to deal with the aftermath. Eighty years of relationship hadn’t softened their rivalry one bit; Harry always had to be the first.

He was the one who initiated their first kiss. It was during their third or fourth date; Draco didn’t remember why they were in Diagon Alley, but he was positive it was raining. They had found shelter under a balcony. Harry had grabbed his arm and he had leant in to brush his lips against Draco’s. He remembered they laughed like children afterwards. They hadn’t noticed it stopped raining, too busy with their second, third and fourth kisses.

Harry was also the first to propose. Draco had been going around with the perfect ring in his pocket for the best part of a whole month, but he had never found the right moment to pop the question. Till one night they were eating Chinese take-away in Draco’s apartment and Harry had mumbled «Marry me, Draco» with his mouth full of mashed spring rolls. He didn’t even bother to get a ring first, he had just blurted it out like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And Draco had accepted; he proudly wore the ring Potter had made with one of the straws that had come with their dinner until their wedding day. Draco never said so, but he loved that ring. And he suspected Harry did too, because he never missed the chance to kiss it.

Right from the moment they had held their first born in his arms, Harry had been the first to adapt to fatherhood as well. Of course, he had had practice with Teddy, but so had Draco. And yet, taking care of a newborn came like a second nature to Harry.

Draco smiled briefly at the memory of his face the day his idea of letting Teddy and Jamie choose the name for their little brother backfired on him. Draco was partially to blame, because he had spent so much time teaching the kids about the history and the traditions of the Black family. He had hoped for a Lynx or a Phoenix, but the children were adamant about their choice, and a few months later they had welcomed Scorpius into their family.

Harry managed to be the first in so many things during the decades they spent together, so he reckoned it was only natural he had to be the first to die as well.

The sound of the thick block of granite sliding in place to seal the grave startled him. Draco stared at the gravestone their children had chosen. A statue of Harry sitting on his Headmaster chair, one hand laying on a copy of History of Magic and the other holding his wand. A pale representation of the man they had lost, but tears stung Draco’s eyes at the sight. Exactly as Harry would have wanted, he was going to watch over Hogwarts till the end of times.


End file.
